Birthright
by Godeater
Summary: Xander, grieving over the deaths of his parents, prepares to celebrate his 18th birthday. Little does he know, a long forgotten part of his family's history is about to find him and change his life forever
1. Prologue

Xander kneeled down in the soft rain and laid the two red roses against the headstones. It had been 6 weeks since his parents had been killed in a car accident, the victims of a drunk driver. "Which is ironic don't you think?" he said softly to the grave, the marker reading John Harris 1953-1999 and Linda Harris 1957-1999. "When I heard that you guys were in an accident, I guessed that dad was the drunk. Who'd have thought that you would both be sober when you died? Not me."  
  
He spoke with no bitterness, only sadness and regret. When he had been told that his parents were dead, Xander felt nothing. He had always thought that such news would have brought some kind of emotion to the surface. Sadness, anger.happiness? It hadn't hit him till two days after the funeral. Giles, worried about him being so withdrawn, had practically forced him to visit his parents gravesite. The two men had stood there, under the hot July sun, simply staring at the headstone.  
  
As he had stood there, sweating in silence, his mind drawing a blank. Suddenly, one of the few happy memories from his childhood had come to him. A summer barbecue in his backyard. It played like an old movie that hadn't been watched in years. He watched as he, Willow and Jesse kicked a ball around, while Xander's father argued with Willow and Jesse's fathers about the best way to grill a hamburger. Willow and Xander's mother sat at a near by table, drinking ice tea and gossiping about the neighbors. Jesse's mother had died the year before from.something.  
  
As Willow and Jesse debated on whose turn it was to play goalie, Xander had looked over at his father and caught the man smiling at him. Xander remembered it so clearly. His father's smiling face, the joy in his eyes as he watched his only son play. The moment was broken when Jesse kicked the ball at his head, bringing on a friendly wrestling match between the two friends. Willow simply giggled as Xander pinned Jesse and raised his hands in victory. When he had turned back to his father, the man was busy on the grill.  
  
Thinking back on the memory, Xander felt himself start to cry. It was not long after that day that first his father, and then his mother had started to drink. And fight. And hit each other. And him. As the tears ran down his face, the boy felt Giles slip an arm around his shoulder, not saying anything. Just comforting him.  
  
Xander now visited his parents' grave every week. He hadn't cried since that day, but still the sadness filled him whenever he visited. During the week, he would ask himself why he felt sad. For most of his life, they had been his parents in name only. Xander would think of all the times they had yelled at him for no reason, sent him to his room without dinner for a minor mistake. But most of all, Xander remembered the beatings. There had been times where one of them had hit him so bad, they had had to phone the school the next day to tell them he was sick.  
  
He thought of all of these memories as he sat in his house, alone, night after night. They gave him some comfort in the darkness, raging against ghosts and phantoms of days past. Then he would visit their grave, and it would fall away from him like fog against the wind. And all he was left with was sadness and regret. "Whether you guys were good parents or not, and I'd vote for not, you were still the only parents I had."  
  
He never said "I miss you" or "I forgive you". Both would be lies, and if his parents could hear him they wouldn't believe it anyway. So today he stood, like so many other days, by their graves and thought sad, incoherent thoughts. The only difference was that today was raining and that it was his birthday. "I'm 18 today." Xander said softly. "I'm a man today, or so people tell me. I'd like to say that I wish you were here to see it. But really, I'm not. You guys would probably have just yelled at me about being a slacker, or ignored it all together."  
  
The headstone, as always, remained silent to Xander's words. As unflinching as the people who lay under it had been to them in life. Standing for a few minutes longer, Xander finally turned and slowly walked away from the grave.  
  
  
  
.___.___.  
  
  
  
"Are you sure?" The woman said as she watched Xander leave the cemetery through the tinted window of the Lexus. "It will happen tonight?"  
  
The gray-haired man beside her in the passenger seat sighed. "For the last time, yes!" Gregory Kalugin said in exasperation. "Tonight, at 10:47pm, the first phase of the Rebirth will begin. We will have exactly one month to the minute to convince Alexi to accept his birthright. If he does not, all will be lost."  
  
Sonja Cosign watched with sad eyes as the boy their Family depended on walked through the rain on his way home. "It just seems.so cruel." she said as Xander turned a corner and disappeared. "After everything he's been through in his life, and now his parents dying.to force this upon him."  
  
"We would not have to force anything upon him if his parents had allowed us to take him in the first place." Gregory said angrily, on of his withered hands gripping his cane tightly. "If we had been able to prepare him properly, the Rebirth would be a the final step for him, instead of the beginning."  
  
Sonja glared into the cemetery, cursing Xander's parents in every language she knew. "His parent's were greedy fools! They wanted the estate for themselves before they would allow Alexi to be trained. What kind of parents would not only deprive their child of such advantages, but put his life in danger to do it!"  
  
Gregory shook his sadly. "The 'Harris'' had no idea their son was the Heir before we came to them. Jovan had thought the Birthright as a fairy tale told by his grandparents, and Linda knew not the true origins of her husband's family." Sighing again, this time in sadness. "If we had kept Jovan in the family, perhaps he would have decided differently. Then again, perhaps not. Even as a child, Jovan was greedy. I remember him at family gatherings, stealing cookies from other children's plates. We had thought it charming at the time, but."  
  
"Jovan was a traitor to not only us, but his own son!" the raven- haired woman replied with scorn. "Turning his back on his family was bad enough, but to find out that his son was destined to lead us and then keep him from it.that is beyond forgiveness! And the way he and his wife treated the boy after we refused them! No! Jovan was a beast! If he were not dead already, I would kill him myself!"  
  
The sudden slap Gregory gave her left her stunned for a moment. "You should know better then to say such things, Sonja," the old man said with reproach. "To speak ill of the dead is simply bad manners. To threaten the life of a Family member, even a dead one."  
  
Ignoring the pain of the slap, Sonja bowed her head slightly. "I forgot myself, Uncle. I ask forgiveness."  
  
Gregory coughed harshly, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. "You have been too long away from the rodine and the Family. Your manners are the first to fade, I have seen it before." After another coughing fit, the elderly man took a deep breath and exhaled. "You are forgiven, but do not let it happen too often. Your parents may let such outdated notions such as discipline decay, but I assure you I will not. When we take Alexi back to Russia, you will need to remember them. Some of our older Family members are not as forgiving as I."  
  
Sonja briefly wondered who could be older then the 104 year-old man beside her, before nodding and starting the car. "When will we approach him?" she said, trying to change the subject from her back to their mission. "And what if he doesn't accept?"  
  
Clearing his throat, Gregory straighten in his seat and placed both hands atop his cane. "We will approach Alexi after the first phase has begun. He will notice the change and it will help convince him of what we tell him." Setting his jaw as the car moved forward, the old man gripped his cane tighter. "As for him refusing...he cannot. It is his Birthright." 


	2. Chapter 1

"Where is he?" Buffy asked for the sixth time in the past 10 minutes. Beside her Willow, Oz and a highly uncomfortable Giles sat at a table in the Bronze. The music was loud and the crowd was jumping. The Scooby Gang had gathered at the club to celebrate Xander's birthday. The only one missing was the birthday boy himself.  
  
"Not here," Willow said grumpily to the Slayer's question. Twirling a straw into her soda, the would-be Wiccan checked her watch. "He's like.really late too. It's almost 9."  
  
Giles cleared his throat and said something that was lost in the noise. When all he got back were confused looks, he repeated louder, "I believe that Xander was visiting his parents this afternoon. He may not be eager to enter this.festive atmosphere right away."  
  
Everyone at the table seemed to slouch a little at the news that Xander had stopped by his parents graves. "Oh yeah, he's going to be such the party guy tonight," Buffy said with a sigh. "I knew this party was a bad idea."  
  
"Wasn't this your idea?" the Watcher asked diplomatically as he took a sip from scotch.  
  
Buffy seemed to slouch even more. "That's how I know it was bad idea."  
  
"Doesn't matter now," Oz put in from beside Willow. "He's here."  
  
Everyone turned toward the entrance of the Bronze and saw that Oz spoke the truth. Xander was making his way through the crush of people, trying to locate them. When waving at him failed to get them noticed, Giles emitted an earpiercing whistle, causing everyone around them, including Xander, to wince. "Nice set of pipes there Giles," the dark- haired boy said as he finally reached their table. "Think I might have popped a brain cell." Giving everyone a warm smile, Xander sat down in between Buffy and Giles. "So, how's everyone doing? Any big mystic evil around I should be aware of?"  
  
"No," Giles replied with a slight smile. "Though I do think that this band, and I use that title cautiously, is attempting to render me deaf."  
  
As the group laughed at Giles, everyone relaxed. "So, 18, eh?" Buffy said with a grin. "Got any big plans to take advantage of your new found 'maturity'?"  
  
"Oh yeah," Xander said with a snort. "R rated movies and voter registration, here I come!"  
  
As the night wore on, Xander was treated to a round of "Happy Birthday", which started out sung by Giles, Buffy, Willow and Oz, and ended with half the Bronze singing as well. "Well, aren't you turning into Mr. Popular," Buffy teased as the cake was brought over.  
  
"God forbid," Xander replied almost quietly. Before Buffy could think of something to say, the cake arrived and all further discussion was halted as the chocolate cake was practically inhaled by Xander and Giles.  
  
"I didn't eat dinner," the Watcher said somewhat sheepishly when they informed him that he had eaten almost as much as Xander. When Xander excused himself to use the washroom, Giles quickly followed him and caught him on the way back. "Xander, a moment please?"  
  
"What up G-man?" the teenager replied the two made their way to the bar.  
  
"I-I was just wondering how today went," Giles said look incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
"It went alright," Xander said, his voice neutral as he eyed his older friend. "Left some flowers. Talked for a bit."  
  
"I see. Well, that's good." Feeling rather ridiculous under Xander's gaze, Giles straightened up and clapped him on the back. "Right. So, may I buy you a drink?"  
  
"You hitting on me, Giles?" Xander said with a smile, grateful the change in topic. "And I still have half a Coke at the table."  
  
"No, I am not hitting on," the Watcher said a glare that was quickly replaced with a friendly smile. "When I was growing up, it was traditional for a boy's father to take him out for his 'official' first pint, on his 18th birthday. And, though I may not be your father, I would be honored if you would allow me to fill the role tonight."  
  
A soft smile came to Xander's face as he looked at Giles. "You've filled that roll for almost 3 years now Giles, what's one more night?" When the older man looked like he was going to tear up on him, Xander grinned mischievously. "And you trying to corrupt a minor? I'm not of age yet."  
  
This time it was Giles who smiled at the change of topic. "Rubbish!" he declared firmly, waving the bartender down. "I find it amusing that a country that claims to be the most free in the world, makes a man able to die for his country, before he is allowed to enjoy a drink with his chums!" As Xander laughed and nodded his head, the older man placed his order. "And you Americans say we British are uptight!"  
  
The drinks arrived and Xander raised the glass cautiously to his nose and winced. "What the hell is this stuff?"  
  
"This is scotch," Giles replied, sniffing his glass as well. "And bad scotch at that. But, as this will be your only drink until you are of legal age," the Watcher paused to let it sink in that it better be, or Xander would have hell to pay. "As this is the only drink you will have for a few years, it might as well be a good on. Or, that apparently unavailable, a strong one!"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Should we do a toast or something or do we just chug it down?"  
  
Thinking for a moment, Giles raised his glass. "May the best we've seen, be the worst we see," he said formally, clinking glasses with Xander.  
  
Both men down their drinks in one shot, Giles wincing slightly again as he swallowed. Xander stood still for a moment, shook his head, stomped his foot and coughed. "Jesus, Giles!" he croaked out. "People actually drink that stuff for fun?"  
  
"Yes," the older man replied, clearing his throat a few times. "Yes, though I wouldn't think that particular brand of scotch. That was very, very.bad."  
  
Xander nodded his head in agreement as he coughed again. "Well, if you were trying to scare me away from drinking.good job!" Coughing one last time, Xander shook his head. "We should get back to the others. They probably think a couple of sexy vamps grabbed us and dragged us of into the night to be their love slaves."  
  
"Indeed," Giles replied with a smile, straightening his tie. Both men made their way slowly back toward their table, breaking into laughter when Xander broke out a pack of gum to hide the scotch on their breath. Both were still laughing when they reached the table.  
  
"Where have you two been?" Buffy asked sternly, glaring slightly as both Xander and Giles tried to stop laughing. "I was starting to think a couple of vamps grabbed you and dragged you away!"  
  
"I liked my version better," Xander managed to say before both he and Giles started laughing all over again. Both were oblivious to the strange looks they received from Buffy, Willow and Oz.  
  
"Right," Giles said once he had contained his laughter into the odd chuckle. "Well, should we move on to the gifts?"  
  
The gift-giving portion of the evening went smoothly and quickly. Giles gave his gift first, a rather antique looking wristwatch. Xander stared at it skeptically, taking in its worn leather band, the tarnished silver.and the faded inscription on the back. 'To A Good Son.' Knowing that no one else saw the inscription, Xander smiled warmly, his face trying to show how much the gift meant to him. "Thank you," was all he managed to say.  
  
"My father gave it to me on my 18th birthday," the Watcher said, slightly embarrassed. "And, I thought it appropriate.."  
  
Knowing something had passed unsaid between the two, Buffy was hesitant to bring out the next gift, but did so when both Xander and Giles looked at her. "Uh.from Cordelia," the Slayer said abruptly, pushing the small box and card across the table.  
  
Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Xander opened the box gingerly, slightly afraid that it might explode. Inside were a pair of very non- threatening leather driving gloves. Opening the small card, he read the message with a small smile. "For when you're doing your critical donut runs. Love. Your Friend. Cordelia Chase." Xander couldn't help but chuckle at seeing 'Love' and 'Your Friend' crossed out. It appeared that the cease-fire between Cordy and himself was holding for the moment.  
  
The next gift was a combined effort from Willow, Oz and Buffy. Xander knew that Willow had picked the wrapping paper, due to the abundance of frolicking woodland creatures and balloons. The box was quite large, and everyone had to put their drinks on the floor or hold them so that Xander could put it on the table. Tearing away the paper, Xander was again surprised at the gift he received. "Uh.thanks," he said as he saw SONY written in large lettering across the box, a picture of a home stereo directly under it.  
  
"You don't like it?" Willow asked, disappointment plainly written across her face.  
  
"No, no, I like it!" Xander said, putting some enthusiasm in his voice. "I've been meaning to get one for a long time.just never had the cash." Looking over at his oldest friend, Xander planted a smile on his face. "I love it. Thank you Willow."  
  
Willow decided to take Xander's words a face value and grinned. "Uh, excuse me!" Buffy said, doing her best to look offended. "Me and Oz chipped in to you know? How about some props over here?"  
  
Sighing loudly, Xander jumped of his stool a pretended to drag himself to Buffy. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this truly generous gift. I am unworthy to be your friend and every night I thank the stars that you even talk to me." Giving her a toothy grin, the Slayerette tilted his head to the side. "Better?"  
  
"Much!" Buffy said with a grin of her own as she reached over and grabbed her friend in a bear hug. "Happy Birthday Xandman!"  
  
Gasping for breath, Xander smiled down at his blond friend. "Thanks, Buff," he finally said when she released him. He saw Willow with a 'What? I don't get a hug?' look. Scooping his old friend up, Xander spun Willow around twice and then set her back down beside Oz. "You want a hug too?" he asked Oz, giving the other boy a long look.  
  
"Uh, I'm good," Oz said after a moment. "Happy Birthday Xander."  
  
Giving Oz a nod in thanks, Xander looked around the Bronze. "So, who's the lucky one that gets to dance with the birthday boy first?" he asked with an almost evil grin.  
  
The group looked at him skeptically, knowing that when Xander danced, lives were threatened. "Well," Giles said first, rising from his seat. "I will take a rain check Xander. If I may, I'd like to get home before my eardrums burst." Giving Xander a firm handshake, the Watcher bid everyone a good night and retreated from the Bronze as fast as he could.  
  
"Uh, well.Willow why don't you go first?" Buffy said, trying to hide a giggle. "You've known Xander the longest."  
  
Everyone but Xander laughed at Willow's fearful expression. "Jeez, feel the love at this table."  
  
"No, no, it's okay." Willow said with a smile. "Just as long as you watch your hands. And your feet. Elbows too."  
  
Mumbling about Willow's lack of funness, Xander followed his friend to the dance floor and started jumping up and down to Blur's Song 2. Willow did her best to stay out of his way, grinning like a fool the whole time. Others on the dance floor moved out of Xander's flailing limbs, giving the energetic boy a wide birth to avoid a hand in the eye.  
  
Buffy and Oz laughed as they watched the two friends dancing. The Slayer also looked for any signs of jealousy from Oz, knowing that Willow and Xander's affair was forgiven, but not forgotten. Oz, as usual, simply smiled as he watched his girlfriend start jumping up and down beside Xander, who's enthusiasm seemed contagious to almost everyone around him on the dance floor. Buffy laughed out loud as she saw Xander and Larry, the jock still wearing his neck brace, doing their best to headbang to the powercords.  
  
Eventually Oz and Buffy joined their friends on the dance floor, and bopped away with the rest of the crowd. After, what Buffy counted as the 6th fast song, a slow song started to make its way out of the speakers. The crowd thinned as couples came together, Oz and Willow among them. Noticing Xander's disappointed look at all the pairs around him, Buffy tapped him on the shoulder and gave him her best shy smile. "May I have this dance?"  
  
Xander turned and looked at his friend, his eyes seeming to search for pity or sarcasm. Seeing neither, or at least not enough to dissuade him, Xander smiled and took Buffy in his arms. Neither Slayer nor Slayerette said anything as they danced. Buffy sighed and rested her head against Xander's chest, enjoying the feeling of being in anyone's arms again. And Xander, well he did his best not to step on Buffy's feet, hold her too tight or do anything else that might ruin the moment. He thought he was doing pretty well too.  
  
Until he fainted.  
  
Buffy didn't notice until Xander's arms slipped off her and he started to pitch toward the floor. Catching him easily, the Slayer carefully moved him off the dance floor and back to their table. "Xander? Xander, can you hear me?"  
  
"What's wrong?" Willow asked as she and Oz rushed to the table.  
  
"I don't know," Buffy replied worriedly, shaking Xander gently. "We were dancing and everything was cool.when I felt his hands slip down I thought he was going to try and cop a feel. Next thing I know he's falling."  
  
"We should take him to the hospital," Willow said, biting her lip with worry.  
  
Suddenly Xander's eyes flew open. He gripped the edge of the table tightly and looked around. "Woah," he said softly.  
  
"Woah is right! What happened?" Buffy asked, her right hand against Xander's back in case he fainted again.  
  
  
  
Xander shrugged, his eyes still roaming around the Bronze. "Don't know. One minute I'm doing my best not step on your feet. Then there's like this flash of light and then nothing." Giving his friends a crooked grin, Xander shook his head. "Weird."  
  
Willow still tried to insist that they take Xander to the hospital, which he refused. After much haggling, they finally came to a compromise. Buffy would escort Xander home and if he fainted again, she would carry him if she had to, to the hospital. Willow accepted it reluctantly, still worried. Xander, grumbling that he felt fine, he finally acquiesced when Buffy threatened to drag him kicking and screaming through the streets.  
  
Taking a moment to put his gifts in a bag, Xander hefted the stereo in one arm and started to walk out of the Bronze, saying good night and thank you over his shoulder. He was outside when Buffy caught up to him. "First you don't want to leave, and then you practically run out of there," she said coming to walk beside him. "What gives?"  
  
"Nothing gives, Buffy." Sighing, Xander shifted the stereo into the arm that carried his bag of gifts, and used his free hand to scratch his head. "It's just, if I'm going to be walked home like little dog, I might as well get it over with now."  
  
"Hey," Buffy said softly, putting a hand on Xander's arm to stop him. "We're just worried about you, Xander."  
  
Stopping, Xander closed his eyes and took a breath. "I know that Buffy, and I appreciate it even if I'm not showing it right now. It's just."  
  
"Just what?" Buffy asked when he didn't go on.  
  
Opening his eyes, Xander stared at Buffy and she could see some kind of internal battle being fought behind him. "Nothing," he said finally, starting to walk away. "Don't worry about it, not your problem."  
  
Catching up to him, Buffy stopped him again, this time standing in front of him, her arms crossed. "Well I'm making it my problem," the Slayer said sternly, then continued more gently. "Come on Xander. I want to help."  
  
Xander simply walked around his friend and continued down the street toward his house. He didn't answer Buffy until they were in front of his house. "Look, Buffy. I'm sorry I've been difficult lately. With.everything that's happened in the last few months, I'm trying to deal with it as best I can." Stopping to fish his keys out of his pocket, the Slayerette went on. "I had all these plans for this summer. Hitting the road, seeing America.and yet I'm still here. Doing what I've always done. Bronzing, researching the bad things, waiting for the next crisis to show up."  
  
Looking at her friend sympathetically, Buffy helped him open the front door and put his gifts inside. "I know things are really rough for you right now, but they'll get better."  
  
Buffy was startled when Xander turned around suddenly and moved close to her. "Promise?" He almost whispered, looking down at her.  
  
"Cross my heart," Buffy answered as she stared up into Xander's face, almost losing herself in his dark brown eyes. She was acutely aware at how closely she and Xander were from each other. She thought that if she closed her eyes, she could feel heat radiating from him.  
  
Neither one of them moved or spoke, the silence seeming to cover them both like a warm blanket. "Buffy," Xander said softly, breaking the silence. "Do you still think about Angel?"  
  
Surprised by the question, Buffy took a step back, again realizing how close Xander was to her. "Uh, yeah, sometimes. I mean, he was a major part of my life for a long time, it's pretty hard to simply forget about someone like that, you know?" Seeing something she couldn't identify cross Xander's face, Buffy tried to turn the question back at him. "You think about Cordelia a lot?"  
  
"There's only one person I think about a lot," he replied softly, a smile crossing his face briefly, before becoming neutral. "Thanks for walking me home, Buff. You should probably go now." Taken aback slightly by the dismissal, Buffy could only watch as Xander closed the door in her face. She stood there for a moment, still confused, then turned and started to walk home. 


	3. Chapter 2

On the other side of the door, Xander listened to Buffy walk away. "Nice one, Xander," he said to himself when Buffy had gone far enough not to be heard. "She just gets rid of one cryptic guy, and you go and try to take his place."  
  
The fact that that was exactly what he was trying to do wasn't lost on Xander either. When Cordy had told him that she was moving to Los Angeles, he had known that any chance of reconciliation with her was hopeless. They had parted friends, or as close to friends as two people with their kind of history could be. After she was gone, Xander had taken a long look at his life. He was unimpressed. Sure, he had done his part to save the world. He'd saved Buffy's life a couple of times. Helped save Sunnydale from the Mayor. All well and good, right? But it wasn't stuff you put on a résumé or a job application. With his grades and SAT scores, any hope of post- high school education was a pipe dream. Oh, he could go back to school, retake his SATs, and maybe next year he could apply to UC Sunnydale. Yeah, and maybe monkeys will fly out of his butt! If Xander got anything from his years of public school, it was that he hated school. Hated it with a fiery passion! Actually paying to go to school seemed almost evil!  
  
That left only one other option. Work. Now, despite popular belief, Xander had no problem with the idea of actual work. What bothered him were the jobs that he had any hope of getting. Add that to his being a Slayerette, and a nervous breakdown seemed to lurk in his future. Wal-Mart associate by day, demon slaying sidekick by night! And it wouldn't even be the dual identity that killed him, he had handled it during high school just fine. No, what would drive him nuts would be being around the people he cared the most about in the world, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt, that they were getting ready to leave him. That's what college is for. Getting you ready to go out and take the world by the horns and crap like that. You don't go to college just so you can stay in your one horse town and become the manager at Burger King. No, whether they knew it or not, Willow, Oz, and Buffy were getting ready to leave Sunnydale, just like Cordelia did. Only difference is that they were going to take 4 years longer then her. Either way, that would leave one Xander Harris alone. Buffy might stay longer, with the whole Hellmouth thing and all, but eventually she would leave too.  
  
Or die.  
  
That thought made Xander's blood run cold every time he thought it. He had seen her dead once, and he would fight heaven and hell together to make sure he never saw it again. And that was the main reason that, despite everything else, he would stay in Sunnydale. He would work an unfulfilling job, watch as his friends drifted further and further away from him, and ultimately leave him. He would do all that and more, just to avoid the pain of seeing Buffy dead again. Besides him, no one but Angel had had to deal with seeing her dead. He didn't know about Angel, and frankly didn't care, but he still had nightmares about it.  
  
Xander would die, kill, destroy and basically do anything from having to live life knowing that Buffy wasn't out there somewhere. For the past 3 years, she had been the only constant thing in his life, except for maybe vampires. Even when she had run away, she had been in his thoughts almost all the time. Cordelia had known that, which is why she had become uber- affectionite when Buffy came back. Xander also knew that he was doomed to live life alone, because any woman he became involved with, would always be second in his heart and thoughts.  
  
Which bummed him out to no end.  
  
Well that and the fact that Buffy still couldn't see him as anything more then a friend. Which was probably just as well, because Xander knew that with his history with women, he would screw it up with her if he ever got the chance. Yet Xander thought, that for a moment outside, she had seen him as something other then a goofy guy. Something other then just 'one of the girls'.  
  
Then like the genius he was, Xander had to bring up Angel. Why did he do that? "Because I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself as he threw his keys on the table by the door. It was with these confidence-inspiring thoughts that Xander went into his living room. Putting down his bag of gifts and the stereo carefully, Xander turned, saw an old man and a younger woman sitting on his couch, then walked into the kitchen. It took him a one whole minute to realize there were strangers in his living room, sitting in the dark. Pulling a stake out of his back pocket, Xander sighed and went back to the living room. "You people better be from Publisher's Clearing House, cause I'm in no mood for anything else," he said as he advanced.  
  
Both the man and the woman rose slowly, apparently doing their best to look non-threatening. "Alexander LaVell Harris?" the old man said, his words accented by an.accent.  
  
"Who wants to know?" Xander asked cautiously. He guessed that they weren't vampires from the fact that they were already in his house when he came in, and the fact that he was still alive.  
  
"I am Gregory Kalugin," the old man said gravely and then motioned to the woman. "This is Sonja Kosgin. We have the honor of informing you that you are the designated Heir of Stefan Ivanovich Razkov, Head of the Razkov Family."  
  
Xander stared dumbly at him.  
  
The young woman beside the man cleared her throat, causing both Xander and her companion to turn towards her. "If I may? Alexander, what we have to tell you will sound.rather like a bad joke I imagine. But please, let us finish before you make any decisions. This is very important and, quite frankly a great many things will be effected by what you decide."  
  
Giving both Gregory and Sonja long looks, Xander finally sighed and sat down in a chair on the opposite side of the room. "You got 5 minutes. The only reason you have 5 minutes is because you guys are weird and haven't tried to kill me. Yet."  
  
Gregory grunted in what might have been amusement and sat back down. Sonja followed his lead. "We have watched you since you were a child," the old man said once he was seated. "We knew from the moment you were born that you were destined to be the Heir. Over the years, one group or another has watched over you, recorded your development, and generally kept you safe."  
  
Xander's face held a puzzled and amused look. "Wait a minute. If you two have been 'watching over' me since I was a kid, how come I've never seen you before tonight. As for protecting me, that's quite the load of shit ya got there. Is it heavy?"  
  
Gregory frowned for a moment, not understanding Xander's words exactly. After Sonja whispered a quick translation in Russian, the old man's eyes widened. "It is the truth! We have had many groups in Sunnydale, watching over you during the years. I have just arrived, so there is no reason for you to recognize me. Sonja has been here for the past 4 years, and you do not recognize her because she is good at her job. You were not meant to see your guardians and observers." Leaning back into the couch, Gregory's eyes narrowed slightly. "As for protecting you, you would be surprised at how often the your Family has stopped harm from being done on you."  
  
"I'd be completely amazed," Xander replied sarcastically. "Let me tell you something, no one, and I mean NO ONE protected me from anything when I was growing up. Especially not my family, considering that they were the ones I needed protecting from! So spare me the knight in shining armor routine, cause I know it's bullshit."  
  
"You mean your parents, correct?" Sonja asked gently from beside her companion. "When we say 'Family', we are not referring to the people you were raised by. We mean us. We are your Family."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Xander looked at both of them for a moment. "You're my family. Riiiight. You guys have really been jipping me on birthday presents for the last 18 years, you know?"  
  
"We are your Family, in more ways then you can imagine right now." Gregory leaned forward on his cane, looking intently at the boy sitting across from him. "Through blood and through centuries of tradition. I myself am you're great uncle!" the elderly man said almost proudly. "Sonja is a distant cousin. We are your blood, Alexi. You must hear us."  
  
"He always this intense?" Xander asked Sonja, his eyes still on Gregory. "Cause, I gotta tell you, this whole talk of blood and centuries of tradition is starting to freak me out."  
  
Sonja smiled nervously, her eyes darting to Gregory for a moment before coming back to Xander. "I understand your skepticism. But we are telling the truth. I have been watching you for the past 4 years, and I am proud to say that we are related, though somewhat distantly." Moving forward slightly, Sonja looked at Xander almost sadly. "We know that you have led a.difficult life. We know about how Jovan and his wife treated you, and we are partly to blame for that I am sorry to say. We also know about your friendship with the Slayer."  
  
Again Xander gave them a confused look, briefly thinking that he should just keep it on his face so he wouldn't have to keep changing expressions every time they told him something. "I don't know who 'Jovan' is, so I really think you have the wrong guy. As for 'the Slayer', you leave her out of this conversation if you want it to continue."  
  
Gregory and Sonja exchanged a few quick words of Russian before addressing Xander again. "Jovan was your father," Sonja said gently. "Your father's real name was Jovan Stefanvich Razkov, and he was born in St. Petersburg, Russia. He had a.disagreement with his father, your grandfather, and left his family home with your mother, to start a new life in America."  
  
"No way," Xander declared confidently. "My folks were Americans, born and raised. My entire family is. I know for a fact because I had to do a family tree project in the 8th grade, and I traced them all the way back to 1784, when the first Harris's came over from Scotland." Grinning in triumph, Xander leaned back in his seat. "So, now I know that you got the wrong guy."  
  
Sonja sighed, reached into a briefcase at her feet and removed a large, and apparently very old book. Opening it, she skimmed a few pages until she found what she wanted. Without saying a word, she passed the open book to Xander. After a minute of silence, she finally spoke. "That is your parents wedding in St. Petersburg," she stated simply.  
  
Xander stared at the photograph in utter shock. In it, smiling people surrounded his parents, dressed in a formal suit and a wedding dress. Scanning the picture, Xander saw a mildly younger looking Gregory standing beside a man that looked like an older version of his father. That man had the largest smile of all, one of his hands resting on Xander's father's shoulder. "This.this is my family?"  
  
"We are your family," Gregory answered, his face no longer intense or smug. Now it showed an almost tenderness for the boy that sat across from him. "Alexi, you are of us, just as we are of you. Your grandfather is the Head of our Family. He leads us, directs us and controls the Family's fortune and business. You are his Heir, designated by God and Fate."  
  
When Xander simply stared at the picture again, Sonja touched him on the knee and smiled at him. "Alexander, I know this has all been quite a shock to you, and I wish we had the time to answer your questions until you knew everything, but we are being forced to rush."  
  
"Why?" Xander said softly. "Why didn't they ever tell me?" Looking up at the two people in front of him, his eyes became hard. "Why didn't YOU people ever tell me? Why now?"  
  
Sonja looked embarrassed for a moment, shot a look towards Gregory, and then smiled at Xander slightly. "I was just about to mention that." Taking a deep breath, the woman stared at Xander. "Your grandfather is dying. He has been dying for a number of years now, but he will finally die within 30 days from tonight."  
  
"You see," Gregory said from the couch, both hands atop his cane. "Our Family's history is very old. It was founded over one thousand years ago by Mikhail Razkov, a tribal chief in the area what is know known as St. Petersburg. Mikhail was a good chief. He ruled his tribe with wisdom and kindness, defeating enemies and making alliances when it suited their needs. When the Normans came to Russia, looking for a land route to Constantinople, they crossed Mikhails' land. He traded with them and spoke to their leaders, trying to understand the foreigners that had crossed his path. From them the embers of some kind of unified state arose, fanned by thoughts of wealth and glory. Razkov, knowing that the times were changing, indorsed the unification of the tribes, and through him and others like him, the state of Kiev-Rus was born." Taking a breath, Gregory saw the rather indifferent look in Xander's eyes. "Yes, yes, I know this is holds very little interest for you, but it is important that you know the history of your people. Razkov was a great man. He was wise in a number of magicks, and through him his tribe flourished as a member of Kiev- Rus, helping and advising the Grand Princes that ruled the state. What saddened Mikhail was the almost constant state of civil war that ensued at the death of a Grand Prince, his heirs fighting amongst themselves for control. When Mikhail Razkov learned he was dying, he took the steps necessary for his tribe, his Family, to survive these dangerous times."  
  
Picking up the older man's lead, Sonja leaned forward again, her eyes almost afire with intensity. "Mikhail cast a spell," she said with excitement. "The spell would give his Heir all his knowledge, experience and wisdom. His Heir was his son, Stefan, and from this spell, the Legacy of Razkov was born. With each passing generation, the Heir of the Razkov Family would inherit not only the leadership of the Family, but all the knowledge, experience, memories and wisdom that the former leaders of the Family had learned. From the Golden Age of Kiev-Rus, to the birth of the Muscovite aristocracy and the beginning of Czarist rule. From the birth of the Russian Empire, to the Revolution and the rule of the Communists. Through over one thousand years of history, the Razkov Family has flourished. Helping the motherland, and the people. With wisdom and experience, the Head of our family has influenced and helped guide our homeland."  
  
Xander listened to this.story.with a solemn expression, not interrupting the two tellers. When it appeared that they were waiting for some kind of response from him, he looked them both in the eye. "That was quite possibly the biggest, most outrageous story anyone has every tried to tell me. It totally beats out the time Willow tried to convince me that clouds were angels cotton-candy." Rising from his seat, Xander shook his head. "Sorry, but if all you got is some old picture and some story about magick and crazy Russians, then I'm going to ask you to get the hell out of my house." Walking toward the front door, Xander gave them a small smile. "Go sell crazy someplace else. We're all stocked up here. You have no idea how long I've been waiting to use that."  
  
"Alexi!" Gregory almost shouted, causing Xander to freeze in mid- stride. "We have spoken only the truth to you! You are the Heir! You will be the Head of the Family! Nothing can change that!"  
  
"Listen Ivan! I don't give a monkey's hairy butt about you, your 'Family' or anything else you've said." Stalking toward the old man, Xander felt a rush of strength flood him, making him clench his fists. "Now, if you and her don't get the hell out of my house in five seconds, I'm going to throw you out, and maybe break your hip in the process."  
  
Stepping in between the two angry men, Sonja put a hand on Xander's chest. "I know you do not believe us. If two strangers had come to me on my 18th birthday and told me all of this, I would have probably reacted much as you have." Stepping closer to Xander, Sonja's dark eyes looked up at the boy with mixture of concern and kindness. "But what we have told you is true. Tonight the first phase of your inheritance has begun. You perhaps felt it a wave of dizziness or a fainting spell earlier tonight?"  
  
"At the Bronze," Xander whispered without thinking, his mind replaying the episode at the club. "I was dancing with Buffy. I blacked out for a minute."  
  
"That was the start of the first phase," Gregory said, his tone now more or less back to a civil tone. "It will be finished by morning."  
  
With sudden clarity, Xander realized that at least part of what they had told him was true. Something was happening to him. He could feel it. If he concentrated on it, it was like fire in his veins. Realizing that he was still clenching his hands, Xander opened them. For some reason, he wasn't surprised to find blood tickling out from where his nails had cut into him. "Am.am I going to turn into some kind of freaky.freak? I don't want to be a freak. I've been a geek and an outcast most of my life, but a freak might be too much."  
  
"No, Alexi," Sonja said gently, the hand on his chest rising to caress his cheek. "You will be yourself, only more so. The first phase of the inheritance will bring out the potential of your body. You will be stronger, faster, and more flexible. Your senses, stamina.all of the resources of your body will be heightened, strengthened. You will, simply speaking, be the best Alexander Harris you can be. Physically."  
  
Xander took a moment to comprehend this information, his eyes staring off into space. "You said this is the first phase. How many more are there?" he asked, brining his attention back to Gregory and Sonja.  
  
"There are four phases in total," Gregory said, reaching into his coat and withdrawing a yellow envelope. "This letter will explain it better then either of us could at this moment. It is from your grandfather." Handing the letter to Xander, the old man straightened somewhat. "Read it when you awaken in the morning, after the first phase has finished."  
  
"This is where we are staying," Sonja said on the coat tails of Gregory. "We have a place where we can help you prepare." a warning glance from her companion cut off what she was about to say. "Where we can help you grow accustom to the changes." Handing over a slip of paper with the address on it, Sonja stepped back from Xander. "Please, come by tomorrow. I'm sure you will have many questions." Taking Gregory's arm, Sonja escorted the older man toward the front door, giving Xander one last smile before leaving.  
  
Sitting down on his couch, Xander stared numbly at the front door for what seemed to be an eternity. Now that he knew what was happening to him, Xander could feel the changes in his body. The darkness of the house didn't seem as dark as usual. He could hear the crickets outside, when before their symphony of chirps had been silent.  
  
Realizing that he still held both the paper with Gregory and Sonja's address on it, and the envelope the old man had given him. Looking at the address, Xander thought that is was in the same area of the city as Angel's mansion. "Ritzy," he muttered, looking at the paper one last time before putting it on the coffee table. That left the envelope. It was a creamy yellow in color, the texture of the paper giving Xander an approximation of it's cost. Expensive, was the word that came to mind as he ran his fingers over the envelope, marveling at how it felt under his fingers. Turning it over, Xander saw the name 'Alexi' written in a large and bold handwriting.  
  
"That's me apparently." The name felt odd, but not wrong. He'd never cared for Al, or Alex. And only his father would call him Alexander and only when really mad. Alexi sounded so.exotic. Placing the envelope on the table as well, Xander smiled almost bitterly at the thought of it all. Rich, powerful Alexi Harris. If he couldn't do something with his life, then Xander Harris had no hope 


	4. Chapter 3

The first thing Xander knew when he awoke was pain. When he opened his eyes, the light in the room felt like fire trying to burn his retina out of his head. The ticking of the clock sounded like thunder bolts crashing in his skull. Every breath seemed to burn like acid in his chest. Every muscle in his body felt like it had torn apart while he slept. There was only pain.  
  
Xander remained like that for over two hours, the clock beating out the seconds against his brain. Finally, steeling himself, he quickly rose off the couch and ran to the bathroom. Diving into the shower with his clothes still on, Xander turned the cold water full blast. The shock of the cold pushed the pain away in an instant, leaving only a dull ache.  
  
Exiting the shower an hour later, Xander slipped out of his sodden clothing slowly. Most of the pain had vanished, except in his eyes, which winced at the sunlight streaming in through the small window of the bathroom. "What the hell is wrong with me," he asked his aloud. His voice sounded incredibly loud to his ears and he quickly stopped talking.  
  
With closed eyes, Xander left the bathroom and felt his way to his bedroom. Closing the curtains on the windows, he fell on his bed. Lying in the relieving darkness, Xander took a deep breath, and was temporarily relieved to find it didn't hurt to breathe any more. "Thank you, God!" he whispered, fearing that he would burst an eardrum if he spoke any louder.  
  
Ignoring the fact that he was still wet and naked from the shower, Xander simply lay on his bed, breathing deeply. His eyes grew accustom to the darkness so quickly, the Slayerette thought he'd turned a light on. Discovering that the lights were in fact off, Xander looked around his room and was amazed at how clear everything looked to him. He finally glanced at the mirror over his dresser and nearly jumped off the bed in shock.  
  
No one had ever accused Xander of having a bad body or being out of shape. Cordelia had once remarked, in one of their utility closet 'discussions' that it was a shame he hid it under so many layers of ill- fitting clothing. Which was why it took his mind a moment to realize that the reflection in the mirror was indeed his. In place of the lean, well- proportioned body Xander had grown into, was a body seemed chiseled of marble.  
  
Every ounce of excess fat had disappeared from his body, leaving highly defined muscle behind it. His chest, usually marked by the smooth curves of his pectorals, was now a pair of smooth discs with the feel of flexible steel. His abs, once only visible if flexing, now stood out almost proudly, each separate muscle visible and ready to be used as a washboard if needed. His shoulders had seemingly doubled in size, giving him the look of a linebacker with a neck. His arms.Xander marveled at his arms. His biceps had grown, as had his forearms, three times their original size. His hands looked strong enough crack coconuts. Xander almost fainted when his eyes traveled 'below the equator'. EVERYTHING had grown. His legs, once long and lean, now rippled with muscles. And the growth hadn't limited itself just to his legs.  
  
"I look like Jean Claude Van Damn crossed with John Holmes!" Xander said in frightful awe at his reflection. Running a trembling hand across his chest, Xander couldn't help but be amazed at the feeling of his skin. It was smooth and hairless, and as more sensitive then it had ever been. "What happened to me?"  
  
Suddenly the memories from the previous night came crashing down upon him. The Bronze, his birthday, the fainting spell, Buffy walking him home.the strangers waiting in his living room, the story they told him.the letter. Moving faster then he though possible, Xander ran from his room, down the stairs and to the living room. The light from outside blinded him for a moment, but he didn't need to see at that moment. Going by memory, he made his way to the coffee table and found the envelope exactly where he'd left it the night before.  
  
The name 'Alexi' stared up at him from the front of the envelope, the handwriting as elegant as he remembered. Xander tore it open in almost a panic, emptying the contents onto the couch. Two sheets of paper, a photograph and a ring were the sum of envelope. The first thing Xander looked at was the picture. The worn edges and the yellowing of the back told the age of the picture, where the date June 20, 1981was scrawled in a rough hand. In the photograph, his father as a young man had his arm over the shoulders of an older man, both were smiling with obvious joy. Xander stared at the image of his father, sadness filling him when he realized that he'd never seen his father so happy. The older mans' smile was just as big as his fathers', if not bigger. He was about the same height as Xander's father, dressed in a military uniform. The red stars on the collar signified that of a general. It took Xander a moment to realize that it was the uniform of a General of the Soviet Red Army.  
  
Putting the picture down, Xander looked at the letter next. The writing was of the same hand as that of who had written the name 'Alexi' on the envelope. Written in English, the handwriting was elegant and controlled.  
  
Dear, Alexi  
  
  
  
  
  
I would beg your forgiveness on the conditions under which this letter reaches you. Had any other way been deemed possible, I would have ordered it. By now you have undergone the first phase of the Rebirth, and, along with pain, your mind must be full of questions. I will attempt to answer as much as I can in the limited time I have here.  
  
  
  
My name is Stefan Ivanovich Razkov, and I am you paternal grandfather. I was born in 1888 in St. Petersburg, Russia. I will not give you a history of my life, for I have already written that book. I will not bore you with the details of my childhood, as they would mean less then nothing to you. What I will tell you about is your Family and your role in it. My brother, your Great Uncle, has probably already told you much of our history, so I will not bore you with that either. It is all well documented and told better then I, no writer to be sure, could tell. Instead, I shall tell you about things that will interest you and, hopefully help you.  
  
  
  
With the first phase of the Rebirth complete, you probably have many questions. Gregory and Sonja will answer them for you, as they have both been preparing for many years for this day. I will, however, give you a brief overture of what is happening, before continuing with what I alone can tell you.  
  
  
  
The Rebirth is a spell, as you have probably been told. All the memories, skills and knowledge that those that have come before you, will be passed on to you. The first phase begins with the advancement of your body, making it the pinnacle of the human species. You are probably still in pain from the transformation, and for this I am sorry. You should have been prepared for it, but.circumstances, which I will tell you later, have not permitted it.  
  
  
  
The first phase is, fortunately, the most painful of the phases, which number 4 in all. Your 5 senses will be the most difficult to become accustom to. It will pass, I can assure you. By the end of the first day, your brain will compensate for the added information that your senses are sending to it. The other half of the first phase concerns your physical appearance and abilities. You will have now noticed that your body looks quite different then the one that you have grown accustom to over the years. More muscle, less excess weight, and other physical.enhancements. You are now stronger and faster then most human beings alive. Your hand eye coordination is has been significantly heightened. Your awareness of the world around you has been increased. Your body is now as perfect as it could ever be.  
  
  
  
I have looked into this, and discovered that the first phase in fact resquences your genes into the optimum possible combination possible. Which, to common men like you and I means, that you are now, physically, the best child your parents could ever produce. Considering your gene pool, I'm sure you have become a strongly built young man.  
  
  
  
The second and third phases are purely a mental reconstruction. The second phase will, in laymen's terms, make you smarter. Your memory, learning capacity, instincts and imagination will be increased incredibly. It is, in my opinion, the most enjoyable part the Rebirth. The world will appear in ways you've never considered. Your mind will open to possibilities that would have seemed impossible before. It is truly a spiritual experience. You will never be closer to God as you will be the moment the second phase of the Rebirth begins.  
  
  
  
The third phase is, while similar to the previous phase, a more.humbling experience. The third phase involves the transfer of memories. It is then that you will understand truly your role in the Family, and of what you might accomplish. Over one thousand years of history will become yours in an instant. You will feel overwhelmed, I can promise you. May even think you have gone insane as the memories of your ancestors become intermixed with your own. This feeling will pass, and in the end you will know more about who you are then you ever have. You will know what it is to be a leader and a father. War and peace, love and hate, conflict and tranquility, the memories of all these things and more will be yours as if you had lived them yourself. That and all more mundane knowledge such as science, history will be yours, just as they were mine. You will also know magick. Strong, ancient magicks. Spells and rituals that have been lost for centuries will be yours to call upon. I urge you to use them with the strongest discretion, as our family legacy, while based on magick, is not supported by it.  
  
  
  
You will of course know all this after the third phase.  
  
  
  
The forth and final phase is both the easiest and the most difficult. The forth phase will connect all of the previous phases, and make them truly a part of you. It will be after this final phase of the Rebirth, that you will truly know what you can accomplish, and the talents, knowledge and abilities that you gained through the previous phases will be so a part of you, that you wonder how you could have been anything else. When once you were hesitant, now you will be confident. Where once you were afraid, you will now be fearless. It will be as if a chain that had held you down, has now been lifted.  
  
  
  
The final phase is the only one you have any control over. It will happen in the instant you accept your Birthright, completely and totally. It is that which makes it both easy and hard. If you had been taught from childhood to accept it, to know it and not fear it, it would be the easiest thing in the world. But, because this has been thrust upon you without warning, if may be the most difficult thing you have ever done. I can only hope that will accept this role which is yours, and yours alone.  
  
Xander put down the first page of the letter with a shaky sigh and an even shakier hand. His grandfather's words had answered a lot of his questions, but left him hungry for more knowledge on what was happening to him. The pain was now completely gone, leaving only a residual soreness in his new muscles and a slight headache. His eyes had now grown accustomed to the sunlight coming through the windows, and the ticking of the clock and the beat of his heart no longer hurt his ears. Happy with this fresh discovery, Xander picked up the second page of the letter, wondering what else his new grandfather had to say to him.  
  
  
  
Now that the formalities have been dispensed with, let me first express my condolences at the loss of your father and mother. I wish.well, at this point in my life I find myself wishing for great many things. One of the firsts is that I could have seen your father one last time. He left this family hastily, leaving many things unresolved between us. He was my son, and I will love him until this body no longer takes breath. That said, I would say that your father was a stubborn young man. He could not forgive me for an injustice he believed I had done him.  
  
  
  
Your father was raised from birth to believe that he was the Heir of our family. Everything he was taught until the age of 18 was built around the assumption that he was to take my place when I died. It was thought a safe assumption, as the first born son has been the Heir for the past 12 generations. It rarely skips over to grandchildren.  
  
  
  
When your father's 18th birthday came and went with no Rebirth, he felt cheated. Jovan was always an impulsive young man. He could also be remarkably short sighted when he chose to be. After his marriage to your mother, he became more and more angry. At the family as a whole, and me in particular. He would fly in to fits of rage, yelling and screaming that his destiny had been stolen from him. He blamed me, accusing me of not trusting him to lead our family, or of letting my own thirst of power override the best interests of the family. Most of these outbursts were only done between the two of us, but a few occurred at family gatherings and functions.  
  
  
  
When your mother announced that she was pregnant with you, I rejoiced. Mainly because I wanted a grandchild to dote upon, but also in the hope that with a child of his own, your father would learn some responsibility. And for a time he did. He hovered around your mother like a maid, and had a perpetual smile on his face. It wasn't until the prospect was raised that you would become my Heir that your father again became angry. He became enraged at any mention of you becoming my Heir, vowing that it would never happen.  
  
  
  
2 months before you were born, your father announced that he and your mother were going to Berlin for a vacation. I was concerned that your mother shouldn't be traveling in the final months of her pregnancy, but Jovan stressed that it would be a short trip and that your mother was looking forward to it.  
  
  
  
They left our home for Leningrad, and then flew directly to Berlin. Two days later they bribed a border guard and entered West Berlin. Where they went immediately afterward, I am unsure of. I'll I do know is that 5 months after leaving Russia, your parents were spotted in New York City.  
  
  
  
I could go into detail about how much it hurt to have my only son break his ties with me so abruptly. I could tell you about the nights I spent worrying about your mother, who was accustom to having everything done for her. I could also write of the tears I shed over you, Alexi. About how I longed to hold you even once. How I begged your father to let the family raise you and provide for you. I will not though. I have already spoken badly of your father, and I ask your forgiveness for it.  
  
  
  
I loved your father. He was my only child. He was a good man. A proud man. He could have done great things for our family if he had stayed. Instead he left us, took your mother and you with him. He refused to talk with anyone from the family.  
  
  
  
When I was told how he treated your mother and you.I wept. I have lived through two world wars and seemingly countless revolutions. I have watched my homeland and my family torn apart by violence a number of times. I have seen all of this and more. Yet when your cousin Sonja told me of the beatings and abuse your father heaped upon you, I wept.  
  
  
  
I want you to know that your father was not always like that. He was once kind and generous. He was raised from birth to lead an empire, and for him to have left all of the comforts and luxuries of his home must have taken much courage. I know you may not think so now, but you are still young. Perhaps after a few years, you will know why your father became the man he did.  
  
  
  
I must now mention something that will be difficult for you to read, but I must tell you. I know of your work with the Slayer. It fills me with more pride then I can tell you of, to know that you have the courage and passion to do such a thing. It also saddeneds me to know that you will have to leave it behind if you are to fulfill your destiny. I know how much you care for Buffy, Willow, Rupert and your other friends, I have spent hours reading Sonjas' reports on them. Leaving them will be painful, but you must know it would have happened anyway. I'm an old man, and you may think I have no idea what the strength of your friendship can endure, but I have seen friends come and go over my lifetime. Sometimes it is you who must leave them, other times it is they that leave you. Both are painful, and if I could, I would do anything in my power to spare you from it. Yet it is part of life.  
  
  
  
  
  
Inclosed with this letter is the Family ring. It has been passed down for over 700 years from Heir to Heir. It is yours, whether you complete the Rebirth or not. You are the Heir and with the passing of this Ring, my last conscious duty is complete. The rest will be nature taking its course.  
  
  
  
I have also given you the last picture of your father and I together. I thought that you might want it.  
  
  
  
I am growing tired and must sadly end this letter. I wish I could have met you in person, Alexi. I wish you could have come to your home and sat with this old man. I would have probably bored you to tears with stories, but I would have enjoyed every minute of it. I will pray for you, and I know that deep in my heart, you will accept your Birthright and take your rightful place in our family.  
  
  
  
I give you all my love and hope you take comfort in the knowledge that you have a family that longs for your return.  
  
  
  
Your Loving Grandfather  
  
  
  
Stefan Ivanovich Razkov  
  
PS: I do hope that I have spelt your friends' names correctly. If not, please excuse my poor spelling. They are...unusual names...  
  
  
  
Xander stared at the letter for awhile after he had finished it. "This is all real," he finally said aloud. The letter, the picture.the story he was told last night. All were the truth. Numbly picking up the ring, Xander stared at it. A two-headed eagle was engraved in gold, and a wreath of red laurels colored with rubies. It was a simple design, without pretense or glamour. It was the emblem of a proud, sturdy family. A family that it appeared Xander was to become the head of.  
  
Folding the letter carefully, he placed it and the photograph back in the envelope. Putting the packet on the coffee table, Xander picked up a small slip of paper with an address written on it. Sonja had given it to him the night before, telling him to come there after he woke up. "I need answers," he muttered as he looked at the address.  
  
Rising from the couch, Xander took the paper, the envelope and the ring up to his bedroom. He had to get dressed. He had a family reunion to attend. 


	5. Chapter 4

To call the house that Sonja and Gregory were staying in, large would be like calling the White House a summer cottage. Or so Xander thought as he turned up the driveway of the place. The mansion loomed above him like a thundercloud made of granite, blocking all light as it passed by the sun. It was intimidating, monolithic, and didn't look particularly happy to have visitors. The huge picture windows were closed by dark curtains, the front doors appeared ready to stand up against a direct nuclear assault, and the gargoyles above the door look down with distaste at anyone brave enough to into their field of vision. The complete absence of any kind of welcome mat didn't sit well with Xander either.  
  
His clothing did nothing to comfort him either. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, Xander felt constricted. All of his clothes were either too small for him, or unbearably tight. He had been forced to go into what was left of his fathers' clothes for something that came even close to fitting him. With his lack of underwear, Xander Harris had never felt more like a male prostitute in his young life.  
  
Stopping the car at the top of the driveway, Xander looked up at the huge house, and heard the theme from The Twilight Zone in his head. "There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man," he said to himself as he walks up the immense front steps of the mansion. "It is a dimension as vast as space, and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow - between science and superstition. And it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone."  
  
Having 'do-do, do-do, do-do, do-do' running through his head, Xander knocked on the great oak doors of the home. Faint footsteps were heard from behind the door, coming quickly and becoming louder. "Ok, Harris," Xander said quietly to himself. "Stay cool. You're in control."  
  
With surprisingly little noise, one of the massive doors swung open. "Hello, Alexi," Sonja said with a smile. "Please, come in."  
  
Sonja was dressed a white halter top and black leggings. Xander could detect the faint smell of fresh sweat, and hear her heartbeat beating faster then normal. "You were working out, weren't you?" Xander asked as he cautiously stepped passed the threshold of the door. "I can smell your sweat and hear your heart beating."  
  
Sonja blushed slightly. "Yes, I was." She said as she closed the door and locked it. "I am happy to see that you are already growing accustom to your enhanced senses. Some have.trouble." The last of the sentence was said as Sonja took in the young mans' appearance with an appreciative look. "Gregory is waiting for us in the gymnasium," the Russian woman said with more then a hint of a smile. "If you could follow me."  
  
As Sonja walked past him, Xander took a quick glance at her butt, then felt equal measure guilt and disgust. 'If this stuff is all true, then she's your cousin!' one part of his mind informed him. 'Yeah, but a 'distant cousin!' another, more hormonal controlled part rebutted. Sighing to himself, Xander kept his eyes off Sonja and focused them on the exterior of the mansion instead.  
  
To Xander, the grim and intimidating exterior of the mansion seemed almost jovial in comparison to the stark interior. There was wood, there was stone and there was light. And that was all. As Sonja led him through the house, Xander couldn't help but marvel at the excess of nothing. It was as if they had found the one place in the world where any kind of comfort would seem ugly and useless. There were chairs and tables, lamps and desks, there were paintings and sculptures, there were all of the things that a mansion should have. But instead of being comfortable, or attractive, they were just there. Like sand at the beach, or water in a pool. Expected. Nothing remarkable about them. Except that they were unremarkable. "Quite the place you have here," Xander commented as he followed his guide down a flight of stairs. "If this place had any less character, it could have its own sitcom on UPN."  
  
"UPN?" Sonja asked, puzzled, as she pushed open a large wooden door at the bottom of the steps. "Through here please."  
  
Sighing, Xander let Sonja led him into a brightly lit room. It was so brightly lit, that at first hurt his newly sensitive eyes. Squinting, the Slayerette walked tentatively into the room, his eyes slowly adjusting to the harsh light. When he finally stopped squinting, he found himself standing in the middle of a large room carpeted with exercise mats. The walls were four incredibly long mirrors, only breaking in the corners where one stopped and another began. A wooden stand held an intimidating array of knives, swords and other, more exotic weapons. Finally, sitting on a wooden stool in a far corner, was Gregory. The old man was reading a newspaper, emitting a disapproving murmur occasionally. His cane rested innocently beside him. "Ah, Alexander," Gregory said glancing at his watch before looking at Xander. "I see you slept in. I expected you earlier."  
  
"Yeah, well I expected to wake up, watch some cartoons, maybe have a waffle. Instead I wake up in intense pain and find out that I have to buy a whole new wardrobe because, wow, I have a new body!" Giving the old man a sarcastic smile, Xander glanced at his reflection, the physical changes he had undergone again striking him. "Seems we were all prone to disappointment today."  
  
Gregory grunted and pulled himself off his seat. Taking out a pair of eyeglasses, the old man walked slowly toward Xander, leaning slightly on his cane. "Da. Let me have a look at you," he said as he seemed to inspect Xander. "Hmm. Ya, take off your clothes."  
  
"What?!?" Xander said, stepping back from Gregory.  
  
"We must weigh you. Take photographs." Looking over at Sonja, Gregory seemed to ask a question in Russian. "For records, yes? Before and after," he told the younger man finally.  
  
Still backing away, Xander shook his head. "Sorry Yoda, this Jedi Knight ain't getting naked."  
  
"I could leave," Sonja said from where she leaned against a wall. "If you are uncomfortable about doing such things in front of a woman."  
  
Xander stared at her for a moment. "I'm not getting naked in front of you, him or anyone else!"  
  
Gregory swore in Russian, muttering under his breath. "Very well! Come here!"  
  
Xander cautiously walked toward the older man. "Alright, but if you try to rip my clothes off I'm so outta here." To his relief, Gregory didn't touch him at all, but merely looked closely at his body. "Um, not to be rude.ah hell, I don't care if I'm rude! Stop staring at me like a prize cow! You're freaking me out again!"  
  
Gregory glared at him briefly before pulling a measuring tape out of his inside pocket. Xander said nothing as the older man took his measurements, taking notes along the way. Finally done, Gregory looked one last time at his notebook, and then tucked both the tape and the book away in his pocket. "Very well, we shall have new clothes for you by this evening. I will go now and make a phone call." Tilting his head at Xander, the old man walked away from him and out of the gym.  
  
"He's not exactly good with new people, is he?" Xander asked Sonja, still looking at the door that Gregory had exited from. "Kinda tense."  
  
Sonja shrugged. "Well you must understand, Gregory is under much pressure right now." Pushing herself off the wall, the young woman continued. "At the moment his elder brother, your grandfather, is dying on the other side of the world. Instead of being at his side, he is here, trying to convince a.reluctant young man that he must take his brothers' place as the head of our family. It is a great responsibility."  
  
Xander, still not completely convinced of everything he had been told, still felt like a bastard. "I.had no idea," he muttered. "I mean, you guys show up at my house last night, and I wake up like this. I read this letter from this guy who says he's my grandfather, tell me things.things I can't even begin to believe and." Looking up at Sonja, Xander felt almost ashamed of himself. "I haven't thought of anything but my problems. Hell I haven't thought of anyone but myself."  
  
Sonja looked surprised at Xander's words, and his remorseful tone. "Alexi.Xander. Both your Uncle and I know that you are under a tremendous amount of stress. It is understandable that you are thinking about yourself right now." Putting a hand on his shoulder, Sonja smiled. "Your entire world is changing. If you weren't thinking in terms of yourself, you would be a fool. That is why Gregory is taking such patience with you."  
  
This time it was Xander who took on a look of surprise. "If that's him being patient, I don't want to see him in a rush!"  
  
Sonja's smile took on a great deal of mirth as she stepped away from Xander. "No, I don't think you would."  
  
Both of them were still laughing when Gregory returned to the gym. He cast a suspicious look at Sonja before turning to Xander. "Your clothing will arrive in a couple of hours. You're transformation exceeded our previous estimates, and it will take some time to make the alterations." With a grunt, Gregory moved back to his seat on the far side of the gym and sat down. "Let's begin."  
  
  
  
Before Xander had the chance to ask what was beginning, pain exploded from the side of his head. Staggering back, he looked up in utter amazement. Sonja had kicked him square in the head. "What the hell was that for?" Xander stammered, putting a hand to the spot that hurt the most.  
  
Sonja said nothing, but instead moved toward him again. Her right arm thrust backward, the Russian woman brought her left arm up, bent at the elbow and began to circle Xander. As the young man simply watched her in confusion, Sonja leaped forward, turning her body in the air so that her right arm landed squarely against Xander's jaw. Landing gracefully, Sonja jumped away from Xander in anticipation of an attack. "Catch me if you can, Alexi!" she taunted him with a smile.  
  
A glance at Gregory showed the old man watching the fight with interest. Realizing that this was some kind of test, Xander sighed and rubbed his jaw. "You know, I usually have this rule about not hitting girls.unless they're dead and trying to bite me." Relaxing his body, Xander brought his hands up in the classic pose of a prizefighter and smiled crookedly. "But since you want it.come get some."  
  
Smiling, Sonja changed her stance to match Xander's. Moving in, she danced back and forth, keeping her hands up. When Xander lunged forward clumsily with a jab, she moved aside and landed one of her own against his nose. Not waiting for the boy to recover, she added another two jabs to his jaw and one to his exposed right side. "Thank you sir," she recited in a mockingly accented voice. "May I have some more?"  
  
Xander, finally getting his bearings again, glared her. "Shut up and fight!" Without waiting for a response, Xander moved forward and jabbed quickly. Sonja, raising her hands, blocked the attack and returned one to Xander's side. Instead of pulling away again, Xander took the shot and jabbed again. And again. And again.  
  
Blocking and ducking Xander's fists, Sonja found herself backing away, slowly but surely toward a wall. Knowing that if she reached the wall, Xander would have her, the Russian woman dropped her guard and immediately commenced a counterattack. Jabs, crosses and the occasional uppercut all landed without Xander even attempting to defend himself. As she landed another series of jabs against his face, Sonja briefly thought that she might actually be hurting the boy, but then discarded the thought as physically impossible.  
  
With his head being snapped left, right and back and forth, Xander's sense of direction went out the window. What he found strange was that, while Sonja was pummeling him without mercy, he discovered that he could push whatever pain the blows caused away. So Xander had no pain to fog his mind, only the disorienting jerks of his head as it bounced around under Sonja's blizzard of punches. Xander knew he had to do something, or he'd either throw up or pass out from dizziness. The attack caught Sonja completely off guard. One moment she was in mid-swing, an uppercut aimed for his exposed jaw, and the next she was staggering back, utterly stunned. Xander moved with quickness he never knew he had, and the strength of his punches were devastating. Blood began to pour from Sonja's nose and mouth, a cut opened up above her left eye.  
  
By the time Xander got control of himself, Sonja stood before him, her face covered in blood and arms hanging down limply. As he watched in utter shock, she tipped forward and landed on the floor unconscious. "Holy shit I killed her!" he exclaimed as he stared down at Sonja.  
  
Gregory, who had been silent for the entire fight, pulled himself out of his chair with a grunt, picked up his cane and walked slowly toward the fallen woman. Kneeling down beside her with considerable effort, the older man rolled Sonja on to her back and inspected the damage in silence. "What took you so long, eh?" he asked Xander as he probed the cut above Sonja's eye. "You should have beaten her much more quickly."  
  
"WHAT?" Xander almost screamed. He stared at the old man in utter horror and backed away from him. "I just beat a woman to death with my bare hands, and the only thing you have to say is that I should have done it faster??" It was then that he noticed the blood covering the knuckles of his hands. "Aw shit."  
  
Gregory watched as Xander fainted dead away and then snorts in mild disgust. Swearing in Russian, the old man put an arm around Sonja's limp body, and pulled them both straight with the aid of his cane. With another grunt he heaved the young woman over his broad shoulders and began to limp toward the door. With a final look at the unconscious Xander, Gregory began to climb the steps, quietly muttering about the lack of heart in today's youth. 


End file.
